


Outtake: The Dreaming

by nagi_schwarz



Series: The Oppenheimer Effect [68]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1, The Sandman (Comics)
Genre: Crack, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 03:07:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9364862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Any, Any, are sex dreams really about sex?"Rose Walker walks the Dreaming and meets up with some of the residents of Casa Atlantica.





	

“So,” Rose said, “if dreams about flying are really dreams about sex, what if you dream about sex? Are you really dreaming about flying?” She was perched on a rock just beyond the Gates of Ivory and Horn, licking idly at an ice lolly and contemplating the sky. Goldie the baby gargoyle frolicked at her feet.  
  
There were men in military flight suits sprawled at her feet, playing some kind of obscure board game she’d never seen before that involved pieces that moved by themselves and board squares that flared blue. All of the men were handsome. One was young, looked barely twenty, and his flight suit was obviously intended for someone bigger, if not older (it had the highest rank insignias on it). One had brown hair and bright blue eyes and an American accent, a Southern accent. The other had darker hair and darker blue eyes and dimples when he smiled. Rose would have suspected that the man with the spiky hair and eyes that constantly changed color was Morpheus in disguise, because that was precisely the sort of thing he’d do, but Morpheus was dead.  
  
“I don’t think it’s a straight-up exchange like that,” Dimples said.   
  
Southerner huffed. “If flying dreams are really about sex, what does it say that I always crash at the end of mine?”  
  
“I think,” Babyface said, “it says that you were in a traumatic plane crash and you still have nightmares about it.”  
  
“Alternatively,” Spiky offered, nudging a game piece across the board with his mind and a flare of blue light, “it could just mean you’re really awful in bed.”  
  
“Or afraid of crashing and burning.” Dimples flicked a glance at Southerner. “For three years after the crash, you had zero sex drive. You still get nervous about fading out halfway through. I can see it in your eyes.”  
  
Rose raised her eyebrows. “You mean you two…?”  
  
“Three,” Babyface said. “Three of us.”  
  
Rose darted a glance at Spiky, but he threw his hands up. “Nope. Not my party. I can barely handle my one.”  
  
Dimples slewed Southerner a distinctly sultry look. “You know,” he said, “this is the Dreaming. We don’t make the rules here, and this isn’t our dream per se, but we can still, you know, dream.”  
  
“And?” Southerner asked. “I might finally beat JD at chess.”  
  
“And,” Dimples said, “you can walk.”  
  
Southerner blinked. Looked down at himself. Slowly pushed himself to his feet. He stared at his own legs like he’d just seen a miracle. Then he reached down and yanked Dimples to his feet and crushed their mouths together. Babyface let out a whoop of delight.  
  
Spiky sighed and very deliberately turned his back on them when Babyface stood up and wormed his way between them, talking about positions and available surfaces and combinations and _we have to try this._ He pushed the game board toward Rose.  
  
“So, what did you touch in the lab that got you sent here?”  
  
“Oh, no lab,” Rose said airily. “I just come to visit sometimes. I’m friends with the landlord.”  
  
“Landlord?” Spiky echoed.  
  
Rose nodded in the direction of the castle. “The Lord of the Dreaming. Dream, his name is. The previous Dream was Morpheus. I don’t think we’re allowed to call this one Daniel. I mean, I never would. Not to his face.”  
  
“In his realm outside the gates of his castle is in his hearing, which is close enough to his face.” Dream, pale-haired and pale-skinned but dark, dark-eyed, appeared beside Rose.  
  
“Hello, Dream.”  
  
“Hello, Rose. Major Sheppard.”  
  
“Dream,” Spiky said, raising his eyebrows.  
  
“When one is dreaming about sex, one is dreaming about many things underneath,” Dream said. “Those three are dreaming about how much they love each other. Cameron is also dreaming about how much he misses simple things, like running and playing basketball and being able to just cross a room and grab something he wants when he wants it. Evan is dreaming about, well, sex. And how much he loves the two of them. And how he’d be ruined if he lost them. And Jonathan is dreaming about all the things he regrets from his old life that he’s trying to make up for now. Starting with copious amounts of sex while he still has a youthful libido.”  
  
“What about him?” Rose asked, nodding at Spiky. “What does he dream about when he has sex?”  
  
“Mostly,” Dream said, “sex.”  
  
Spiky smiled, pleased with himself.  
  
“And now,” Dream said, “Dr. McKay is calling. It’s about time for you to wake up.”


End file.
